Missing him
by Fiji Dreamer
Summary: Post Reichenbach. As everybody is gathered for Sherlock's funeral, Molly Hooper is about to make a shocking revelation. Sherlock/Molly & John/Molly. NOW COMPLETE !
1. The church

_This if my first fic ! English is not my first language, so sorry for the possible mistakes._

_Reviews are love !_

**Chapter 1**

John seated in the small church. The other guests were getting settled and the organist was rehearsing, the ceremony would start soon. He was still hoping to wake up from the nightmare that had started one week ago, when Sherlock had taken him on this frantic journey on the continent. Until Switzerland.

The events of that last day were running in circles in his mind. He wished he would have the power to "delete" them, but it was simply impossible. Because the result of this tragedy was here, on the altar, the black coffin. It was empty of course, as they never found the body. But he had found the letter that his friend had left for him, saying goodbye. Sherlock had known that there would be no coming back from the final encounter with his nemesis. He had embraced his fate. But it hadn't helped John coping with the terrible void, and the guilt. Could he have done something?

That question would surely never find its answer. John looked at the people around him, the church was almost full now. On the first row, was Mycroft. He had organized everything of course. On his left was Anthea, focused on her blackberry; and on his right a frail but elegant woman who could only be Mrs Holmes.

Lestrade was seated a few rows behind, with the Yarders. They were all there, even Anderson. He wondered what Sherlock would have thought about that.

Next to him, was Mrs Hudson. She was holding John's hand and he could hear her sobbing quietly. She had loved Sherlock as her own son and was inconsolable ever since the dreadful news had arrived.

There was also the mass of people that he had never seen before. The anonymous that Sherlock had probably helped in the past. Maybe a few enemies as well, secretly celebrating the moment.

And then he saw her, standing against the church's door, Molly. God the poor girl looked terrible, her eyes still red from long hours of crying. Life had not been easy for the young woman lately. There had been the shocking revelation of Jim's identity. And now… She remained there for a moment and finally joined the last row hesitantly.

Sherlock Holmes' funeral was about to begin.


	2. Hero

It had been a simple but beautiful ceremony, with prayers, tributes and even a posthumous knighthood. Sherlock would have hated every minute of it.

They were now gathered at the family mansion for the post funeral reception. A buffet lunch had been served, but Molly Hooper hadn't been able to eat a bite. She was seated in a corner of the room, almost trying to hide from the rest of the guests. She could see Sherlock's mother who was patiently receiving condolences. The woman had not shed a single tear during the funeral but one can still see the pain on her tired face.

Molly felt her own tears coming back but she closed her eyes to hold them back. Her heart was beating furiously in her chest. She would have to tell them, there was no turning back now…

But how ?

She gave a start as a hand was placed on her shoulder.

«Hello Molly». It was a familiar voice, John Watson's. He sat on the chair next to hers.

She answered timidly «Hello John ». She tried to give him a faint smiled. «It was a nice speech… at the church ».

«Thank you ».

There was an awkward silence. They hadn't talked to each other… since the phone call the week before. John couldn't help noticing that Molly was terribly pale, she looked sick.

«Are you alright ? You don't look good, maybe you should eat something.»

«No ! » she answered quite abruptly.«I mean, sorry I am just… not very hungry for now».

«It's fine», said John. «Not very hungry myself either». He gazed at the room a bit absently and turned back to Molly : «It just seems… unreal».

«I know… I've read the interview you gave to the newspaper. It must have been awful. »

John sighed. «I think he knew from the start you know». «He did not believe in heroes, but he gave his life to get rid of…". He knew the name was still painful to Molly. She was twisting her fingers nervously.

"John, the man over there… he is Sherlock's brother right?"

"Mycroft, yes".

"Do you think you could you… introduce me ?"

He was a bit surprised at her request, and to be honest he had no will to talk to Mycroft any time soon. Even if the elder Holmes brother had assured him of the family's sympathy, John couldn't help feeling guilty for not having been able to keep Sherlock safe.

However he agreed. "Sure… come with me".

He took Molly by the arm and they walked toward the tall man who was as usual giving instructions to his PA.

"Ah John" greeted Mycroft. "I didn't get to see you after the service. Thank you for the speech, I know it was not easy".

John simply nodded. "This is…"

"… Miss Molly Hooper, from St Bartholomew's Hospital" finished Mycroft.

"Yes Sir, all my condolences. I don't think we have met in the past" she said shyly.

"I did not have this pleasure. But I know you have been a great support to my brother in... many occasions".

She didn't know what to think about the man. He was even more unreadable than Sherlock. She picked up her courage and continued: "Sir I… understand that the moment is totally inappropriate but I need to talk to you... in private".

John gave her a look of surprise. Mycroft, however, remained impassive.

"We can talk in the library"

"Thank you"

"Maybe… Mr Watson should come with us. What do you think Molly ?"

She remained speechless for a moment. Then she looked at John, who seemed to have no idea of what was going on. Why was Mycroft suggesting this ? Did he already _know_ ? Maybe it would be easier if John was there. She would have to tell him as well anyway.

"Alright"

"Very well, this way please".


	3. The inconvenient truth

**Chapter 3 **

They entered the library which was a beautiful room lighted by a fireplace. The old manuscripts and the paintings on the walls gave it an almost gothic atmosphere. John wondered if this was the house Sherlock had grew up in. They had never talked about those things. In fact, he realized how many aspects of his friend's life had remained a mystery.

Mycroft took place behind a large desk wood desk and waved his guests to sit down in front of him.

"Well, Miss Hooper I believe we are ready to hear you" said Mycroft with his usual phlegm.

Molly was seated on the edge on the chair, as if she was ready to run away at any moment. She gave John a panicked look but he encouraged her with a nod.

She took a deep breath and faced Mycroft.

"Listen Sir… I know your family is going through a tragedy and I shouldn't been disturbing you right now. But there is some information that I cannot keep for myself anymore". Her voice was still a bit weak but she seemed determined.

A cracked smile appeared on Mycroft's face.

"About time don't you think?"

Molly's fears were confirmed. He _knew_.

He continued before she had the time to answer. "So how far are along are you ? According to my information I would say 2 months and 3 weeks ?"

She looked at him right in the eyes and simply replied "Your information is correct Sir".

John suddenly understood and exclaimed:

"Wait Molly are you pregnant ?"

"Yes John"

"Wow this is…" He shook in head in in disbelief. "I mean seriously, you're pregnant with Moriarty's baby ?". He had a nervous laugh but was clearly angry.

"John…"

"OK I'm leaving".

"John you don't understand, it's not… him. The father is not Moriarty. It's Sherlock."

His jaw dropped at her answer and he sat back on his chair.

They were interrupted by Mycroft's annoyed cough: "Well, now that this unfortunate _confusion_ has been cleared. Can we please come back to the subject?"

"Yes" said Molly. "How can you know ? I haven't told anybody".

"The how, Miss Hooper, is irrelevant. The question is when did you plan on informing Sherlock ?".

She detected a hint of irritation in his tone.

"I… I tried. Many times. It was never the right moment. And then… he was so obsessed with Moriarty. I never thought… I never thought it would end this way, and now it's too late." The tears were rolling again down on her cheeks.

Mycroft seemed to be hesitating for a moment, his eyebrows frowning.

"Listen, whatever your decision is…"

"My decision is taken. I'm having this baby".

"Whatever your decision is, you can count on our support"

"Thank you"

"You also understand that the child will be Sherlock's only heir. There will be some…formalities involved"

"Sir this is really not about money…"

There was a knock at thedoor and Anthea's face appeared. She exchanged a silent look with her boss and left quickly.

"If you will excuse me, I am afraid I have to leave for now. Here is my card, we will be in touch… very soon. John I suggest you take back Miss Hooper to her apartment".

"Of course"

As they were leaving the room, Mycroft came close to Molly to tell her a few last words while John was waiting outside.

"Do not hesitate to call, alright? And I suggest you a take a leave from the hospital. You need to rest."

"I know… I will"

"Molly… I don't know what Sherlock told you about me. But your baby is the only thing left of my brother in this world. And it means a lot."

For the first time in a week, Molly Hooper smiled.

Arggh… I'm not really happy about this, but here it goes !

Thank you so much for your reviews. So some of you had guessed indeed !

I will try to update soon. I have the story quite in mind but I realize it's something completely different to write it down!

There will be also some flashbacks in the next chapters ;-)


	4. Going Home

**~ Thank you some much for your reviews! This is my first fic ever so it's nice to have some feedback. I wanted to do a Molly-centric because I think she's a great character. Hope we'll see more of her next season. We'll have some John and Mycroft as well of course. And I really want to do a Mummy Holmes chapter. Don't know yet if the Yarders will be back. And… concerning our capital HIM (quoting Lady Gaga), if you know your ACD Canon he shouldn't be too far away. ~**

**Chapter 4**

They shared a cab on the way back.

Molly was gazing out the window as a thin rain was falling outside. She felt suddenly very tired, but relieved. A huge weight had been taken off her chest. She had still no idea how of Mycroft had figured out about her pregnancy. But it didn't really matter. There was something highly irritating about the man, but oddly enough she felt that she could trust him.

John was still under the shock of the news he had received. This morning he had left home to bury his best friend, and now he wondered if he had ever knew him at all. So Sherlock had got Molly pregnant? Cleary he hadn't seen this one coming. The girl had been obviously infatuated with the detective, but him ? The man who claimed that everything else was… _transport_ ?

He also felt stupid for his behavior and tried to break the ice.

"Molly, I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have reacted this way… We've all been through a lot lately".

She remained silent, lost in her thoughts. John turned his head to look outside, they were stuck in traffic.

"I never slept with him" she said.

"Sorry ?"

"Jim… Moriarty I never slept with him"

"Oh…good. I mean…"

"It's ok". She gave him a small smile.

"I'm almost there, we can stop".

"I promised Mycroft to escort you back home"

"I'm pregnant, not disabled".

He smiled back. "Fine… You have my number right ?"

"Yes, I'll call"

"Take care"

"Bye"

She left and John watched her until she entered her building.

Once alone in the car he told the cabbie "221B Baker Street".


	5. Reichenbach

**Chapter 5**

The rain had stopped by the time John arrived in front of 221B. The weather could always change so fast in London, and the sun was already piercing through the clouds.

He decided to let Mrs Hudson rest and went directly upstairs, climbing the seventeen steps.

His suitcase was still there, unpacked. The state of the place was worse than ever. They had left in such a hurry…

^/^

John went to the kitchen to make some tea. He would have the clear up those experiments at some point. But not now.

There was an awful silence in the flat.

The tea was ready, he served himself a cup.

He went to Sherlock's room. He had been there only a couple of times, generally to search for some papers requested by the detective. It was small and messy of course. And dark. John opened the shutters that Sherlock had insisted must be kept closed at all times. He was afraid of snipers.

The doctor had been seriously worried about his friend's mental health lately. Despite his usual oddities, he was also displaying paranoid tendencies. The hunt for Moriarty had become a complete obsession. He was close to dismantling the whole network. But the danger was growing. Sherlock had escaped several attempts on his life. Running away was the only solution left in order to play for time.

They took the Eurostar to Paris under false identities. Then, they travelled for one week from Strasburg to Brussels and finally to the Swiss Alps. It seemed they had somehow managed to lose Moriarty's agents. They settled at a hotel in the small village of Meiringen.

Sherlock was doing better. The long walks in that peaceful environment had a soothing effect on his nerves. Or so it seemed.

Then came that dreadful day. It was the fourth of May, a date John would never forget.

The weather was beautiful and they had planned a hike in the hills. They had been advised to make a stop to see the famous falls of Reichenbach. But as they were about to take the path leading to the fall, they were interrupted by a messenger sent by the hotel. One of the guests had just had a stroke and needed a doctor urgently.

John agreed to follow him, but was reluctant to leave Sherlock behind. His friend insisted; he wanted to stay a little longer, and they would meet later. Whilst leaving, John turned back and saw Sherlock staring at the torrent, looking strangely calm.

It was the last time he saw him alive.

When he arrived at the hotel, John discovered that there was no sick woman and never had been. The message had been written by a British gentleman who came just after their departure. It was a trap. He ran back to the falls, but Sherlock was nowhere to be found. There were traces of a fight on the ground and two lines of footsteps leading directly to the abyss. There were none returning.

He searched desperately for signs of his friend, tried to use Sherlock's methods to find some clues. He called for him again and again, hoping that maybe he was only injured somewhere. And then he saw it. The piece of paper, left under a rock. It was a letter, from Sherlock, and he was saying goodbye.

He stayed there for a moment, seated on the ground, and cried.

Finally, as the sun was going down, he walked back to Meiringen. Later that night, he made the dreaded phone call to Mycroft. He could swear that for once, he had heard a flinch in the man's voice.

On the 6th of May, John Watson was waiting for a flight in the departure lounge of Geneva's airport, alone.


	6. The call

**Chapter 6**

Molly opened the door of her apartment. She was greeted by Toby, rubbing against her leg and meowing.

"Yes, yes, here I am."

She went to the kitchen and poured some milk for him into a bowl.

Then she went to her room and took off her black dress. Black wasn't part of her universe. She liked bright colors and flowers. Or at least she used to. Now her life had been turned upside down and she wasn't sure about anything anymore.

She paused for a moment in front of the mirror and looked at her exposed belly. There was no bump showing yet, but she couldn't help placing her hand over her stomach.

She still had to tell her parents. Her mother was always teasing her about how she should find a nice guy and start a family. But this was an entire different story… She had got herself pregnant by a man she couldn't even call her boyfriend, and now he was dead. Her "happily ever after" dreams had been crashed by the phone call she received one week ago.

^/^

It was 9 AM and she was still in bed. She had been working a late shift the night before. She woke up to her phone ringing; it was John Watson. She answered with a still sleepy voice.

"John?"

"Hello, Molly"

"Where are you? You guys disappeared - I've been worried!"

"We had to leave the country. I'm in Geneva now."

"Oh I see. Any news, I mean about… Moriarty ?

"It's over."

"What do you mean?"

"Moriarty is dead. The police are going to arrest the whole gang now. Molly, you need to stay at home and lock yourself up, OK? They could try to get revenge…"

"Oh god! I…I don't know what to say…I suppose it's for the best. So, are you coming back now?"

"Yes, I'm at the airport. Molly… there is something else…"

"Is Sherlock with you?"

"Molly, Sherlock…is not coming back"

"What?"

"Molly I don't know how to tell you this…" He paused and she could hear him sighing loudly. His voice was weird. Her heart started beating faster.

"John, what happened?"

"Sherlock… didn't make it"

"No…"

"There was a fight, they both… I'm sorry. Believe me, I'm so sorry".

Molly hung up on him. She had to run to bathroom and throw up, and this time it was not from the morning sickness.

^/^

**Thanks a lot for your reviews ! **

**And a special thank to Eyebrows2 for the beta reading !**

**I know it was still sad… but don't worry there will also be some happier chapters coming next.**


	7. Moving out and on

**Chapter 7**

It was a beautiful July day in London. Everybody was so eager to finally get some sun that the parks were invaded by hordes of picnickers and sunbathers.

But Molly Hooper was not one of them. She was on a bus, on her way to Baker Street.

She had offered John to give him a hand packing.

After much hesitation, the doctor had finally decided to move out of 221B. Mycroft was paying the other half of the rent and had assured him that he could stay as long as he needed. But the place carried too many memories, and he needed a fresh start.

He discovered that Sherlock had left him a large amount of money in his will. It was enough to afford a small flat in Kensington, near the practice where, somewhat to his surprise, he had been offered a partnership (even if he suspected Mycroft had had a hand in it).

Life was going on, at least a different one. But he missed Sherlock of course, and the adrenaline his flatmate had brought into his life.

He was still in touch with Lestrade, meeting him once in a while to take a beer at the pub and speak of the good old times.

And he was keeping a close eye on Molly. He thought Sherlock would have wanted him to. Or maybe not? Maybe he wouldn't have given a damn about the poor girl?

John had been spending more time with her lately, and he enjoyed her company. She was a smart girl, a doctor. But men had always been her weak spot. First there had been Sherlock, using her feelings for him to gain access into Bart's morgue. And then "Jim", who had charmed her in order to perform his little show.

However, she was stronger than he had imagined. He was actually amazed at how quickly she was recovering. Of course there were still ups and downs, and she would sometimes burst into tears at the least provocation, but hormones were also to be blamed for that.

^/^

Molly knocked at the door and was welcomed by Mrs. Hudson.

"Good afternoon, I'm here to see John"

"Oh come in, come in."

The landlady closed the door behind them and gave her a warm smile.

"He's been working hard since this morning. I was going to bring some lemonade upstairs - you must be thirsty my dear, it's so hot outside".

"I'd love some, thank you".

"I remember you, you know."

"Really?"

"Well, I saw you a couple of times… _visiting_ Sherlock". She gave her a knowing wink. "I might be an old woman but I'm not blind!"

Molly was blushing slightly.

"Oh don't worry dear; I thought you were such a sweet girl!" She lowered her voice, and continued in hushed tones: "John told me about the baby; congratulations. You know where to find me if you need a babysitter".

Molly laughed. "Don't worry, I'll think about the offer".

The two women were interrupted by John's voice coming from upstairs:

"Molly, is that you?"

"Yes, I'm coming!"

^/^

They worked for two hours. John was busy dismantling some furniture while Molly was packing books into boxes. They finally took a well-deserved break around a cup of mint tea that John had learned to prepare during his time in Afghanistan.

"What about Sherlock's stuff?" asked Molly.

"Mycroft said to leave it there; he will take care of it. Speaking of the devil, have you heard from him lately?"

"He calls me once a week, 'for news'. But I don't doubt he already knows everything I have to say. His agents are waiting in a car near my building 24/7."

John rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't worry, I have the same downstairs. I know it's annoying but they still haven't get Moran so…"

"...Yeah…"

Molly tried to change the subject: "So, Sarah couldn't come today?"

"Well… Sarah and I aren't doing so well."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I hope it'll get better, she's really nice."

"Yeah, we'll see… So, how's the baby doing?"

"Good - I'm starting to feel it move now. It's a bit… weird. By the way, I have my second scan next week. Er...I was wondering if you could… come with me?

John smothered a smile, turning slightly pink."If you want, sure, it'd be an honour. Do you want to know the sex?"

"Yes, I can't wait! But I'll be happy either way", she said enthusiastically.

He looked at her for a moment, mouth twitching.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just good to see you smile."


	8. An unexpected visitor

**Chapter 8**

Molly had finished brushing her teeth and was ready to go to bed. She paused for a moment in front of the mirror, looking for some changes in her appearance. She decided that she looked and felt pretty good. She felt less tired, the nausea had stopped and her breasts were definitely bigger.

She sat on her bed and thought about the day. Mrs Hudson was an angel. Molly had lost both her grandmothers and she decided that she could be a perfect substitution one.

John had been a gentleman as always. She was glad he had accepted to come with her to the scan. She had felt a little awkward going to the first one by herself. The nurse had asked about the baby's father.

Sherlock…

She was trying to be strong, because now she had another human being to take care of. But her thoughts kept coming back to him.

She turned off the light and rested her head against the pillow. Then she closed her eyes and remembered that not so long ago he had been laying there close to her.

^/^

It had all started shortly after the pool explosion.

Sherlock had been very lucky, even if he had some bad burns and cuts. He insisted to leave the hospital only three days after. But for John the situation was much more complicated.

He had lost a lot of blood and suffered a bad concussion. He had been in the coma for one week now. Sherlock was visiting him every day, pacing the hospital's corridor like a caged lion and harassing the doctors for some news.

In the confusion Moriarty had escaped. All those risks taken for nothing…

It was a Sunday night when he showed up at Molly's door.

Molly had been seated in front of her computer for the past twenty minutes, trying to find something to write. How could she explain that the innocent looking IT technician had turned out to be some kind of criminal mastermind?

Other men had certainly fooled her before, but it was the first time it led her to a full questioning by Scotland Yard. How did she manage to put herself in this situation? She was not stupid. But she could be too nice, always trying to see the good in people. Even when there was none.

This has to change. She had to stand up for herself now. Her eyes went back to the screen, the kitten was surely cute but she pressed delete. Nobody was reading her blog anyway.

She was about to turn on the TV when there was a knock at her door. It was 10 PM and she wasn't expecting anyone.

She opened; leaving the security chain attached, and got a bit of a shock.

"Sherlock ?"

"Obviously"

They hadn't seen each other since… the incident. She had thought about visiting him at the hospital but she didn't dare to.

"Listen, if it's about Jim… I mean Moriarty. I already told everything to the police. I'm so sorry; I swear I had no idea…"

"Of course you had no idea. Now open the door."

He sounded a bit on edge and for once he didn't try to charm his way in.

"Sorry, come in"

He entered the room and started undoing his scarf.

"What… can I do for you?"

"I'm bored. Can't stand my apartment anymore. Lestrade won't give me a case. Moriarty has vanished into air. John won't wake up. I want to smoke. And my bandages need changing ».

He was definitely on edge and she could see his hand slightly shaking.

"Ok… Well I think I can help at least for the last part. Hum you can sit over there", she said showing him a pink sofa. "I'm coming back, make yourself… at home".

She went to the bathroom to look for her first aid kit. She also needed to calm down because her heart was starting to beat like crazy. His presence always had this effect on her. Sherlock Holmes was here, in _her_ apartment. And she was wearing this horrible sweatshirt. It was useless to change it now, he would notice. _Breathe Molly, breathe. _

"I'm waiting!"

_God he was being his arrogant self again. _She needed to stick to her resolutions. She was strong enough not to melt at his first eyelash bat.

She came out of the bathroom holding bandages and disinfectants.

"Well you know what, maybe you can do it yourself!" she answered with an irritated voice.

"Technically I can't. It's on my back."

She rolled her eyes and said: "Take off your jacket".

He complied and she came closer to sit behind him. What she saw made her jump a little bit. His shirt was soaked with blood.

"Sherlock, you should have come earlier!"

"I told you to hurry up!"

She sighted and closed her eyes.

"Ok, take off the shirt too and be careful".


	9. High Maintenance

**Chapter 9**

She had certainly fantasised about seeing him shirtless many times, but his back was not a pretty sight. The bandages were a mess and some of the wounds had reopened.

"I'll do what I can but you need to go back to the hospital for stitches."

"Dull"

"Well you go there to see John anyway. How is he? Any news?"

"No", he answered, his voice suddenly grave.

"I'm sure he will get better. You just need to be patient."

"Patience is boring"

Molly sighted. He was worse than a five year old… "Ok, it's going to sting a little."

He didn't say anything but she heard him hissing him pain.

"Sorry, I haven't done this in a while."

"It's a good thing your usual patients are already immunised."

She decided to ignore his remarks and carried on. She cleaned the injuries, placed a few strips and applied new bandages.

"I think you're good for now. But try to be careful, otherwise it will never heal."

"I'll try…"

"You can't put this back on", she said, pointing at his shirt. "I'll try to find you something to wear".

She went to the bedroom and looked through her wardrobe. She had no idea of what she could give him, but finally found an old t-shirt from uni.

"OK I think this will do. It's really big for me so it should fit you", she said, coming back with the t-shirt in hand. She purposely omitted to mention that she sometimes used it as a nightgown.

She found the living room empty. Did he dare to leave? No, his clothes were still on the sofa.

"Sherlock?" she called hesitantly.

"Do you have anything to eat?"

She joined him in the kitchen and couldn't help but giggle as she saw him desperately searching through the cupboards.

"So?"

"I can heat up some pasta if you want."

"Hm… I suppose it can't be worse than hospital food."

"Lovely. Well put this on", she said, handing him the t-shirt. "I don't mind having a naked man in my kitchen, but you're going to get cold".

This time he didn't answer and obeyed.

He sat at the little table as she started to cook.

"So, you do eat? I thought you were some kind of… manorexic."

To be honest he wasn't as skinny as she had imagined, but she enjoyed being the one teasing him for a change. She wished she could see the look on his face right now.

"I don't eat on a case, that's all. And I don't have any".

"What about… Moriarty?"

"They found some blood at the pool that was neither mine nor John's, so he was obviously injured as well. But he managed to escape before the police arrived. And from then, nothing…"

"Do you think he's going to leave you alone?"

"No… this was only the first act."

They were interrupted by a mewing sound. It was Toby, who had entered the room attracted by the smell. He started rubbing his head against Sherlock's leg.

"Seems like you made a new friend."

"He just wants some food."

"Well, then you two already have a point in common", said Molly, putting down the plate in front of him.

She could swear she saw a smile forming at the corner of his mouth.

She let him eat on his own and settled in front of the telly. She was expecting some unpleasant comments about her cooking, but he actually behaved himself.

She was even more surprised when he joined her on the sofa. Molly had though he would leave at this point… but he didn't seem inclined to go back home. They watched some "House" reruns together. She remembered ironically that a few weeks before, Jim Moriarty was seated at the very same place.

Sherlock was strangely quiet, and she realized that he had dozed off by the middle of the second episode.

She couldn't help watching him for a while and thought he looked like a sleeping Greek god. She wished she could run her hand through his curls but this wasn't allowed for mere mortals. She wondered if she should wake him up. But he probably hadn't slept in days, so it was fair to let him rest. She covered him with a blanket and left a pillow in its case on the table.

Molly went to bed and stared at the ceiling for a while. It had definitely been an interesting evening…

When she woke up, she was not surprised to discover that the bird had flown.


	10. Bedtime story

**Chapter 10**

Two days had passed and Molly hadn't heard from Sherlock.

She had been busy at work, working extra shifts to cover her colleague who was in bed with a bad flu. She was trying to ignore the stares and whispers going on behind her back. The police had questioned all the staff at Bart's about "Jim from IT". And even if Inspector Lestrade had completely cleared her, it was now official that Dr Molly Hooper had been dating an international terrorist.

No wonder that people had carefully avoided sitting beside her at the cafeteria.

She kept her mind focused on her work. It had always been an efficient way to forget about her problems. People were often surprised or disgusted by her choice of profession, but she genuinely liked her job and had worked hard to get where she was. There were always some surprises with the usual stream of corpses, old or young, big or small. And since she had started working with Sherlock she was paying more attention to those little _details._

Yes, that was Molly; hard worker, always trying to please people. "Little Miss Perfect" as her friends liked to call her. Always in control, except when it came to _Him._

She couldn't help thinking over and over about what had happened on Sunday night. The always elusive Sherlock Holmes, in her flat. In the morning, she had though it might have been just a dream - but he had left his blood stained shirt on her sofa. Charming.

Oh, there was no doubt he was absolutely exasperating. But it was useless denying that she was still head over heels with him, and had been since the first day he had entered her lab. He got her at "hello".

He had persistently ignored her invitations for coffee, he was above all that. But he wasn't against a bit of flirting when he needed a favour. And she would always give in. Because those incredible blue eyes had an almost hypnotic power over her.

He had seemed different the other day though, almost vulnerable. The explosion had obviously shaken him more than he wished to admit. And he did worry for John. Molly wondered if it was ok to call him for news, tell him that he could come back if he liked. But she didn't want to sound too desperate...

No, she decided that she wanted to play a little bit, so she texted him.

"_You left your dirty laundry at my flat. Should I get rid of it? MH"_

The answer came quickly:

"_No, dry cleaner will do. SH"_

"Typical", she giggled.

^/^

It was almost midnight when she finally came back home.

She prepared a little snack for herself and watched the late news on TV while petting Toby. Then she went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth and changed into her "Hello Kitty" nightgown.

She had the shock of her life when she turned on the light in her bedroom.

There was a man in her bed. And not any man, it was _Him_.

"OH MY GOD. WHAT THE…_ What are you doing here!_?" she squawked, sounding completely panicked.

He opened a sleepy eye, obviously unhappy to have been disturbed.

"Well, as you can see, I'm _trying_ to sleep", he answered, as if everything was perfectly normal.

"You can't… well... how did you even get in?"

"You didn't think seriously that a tea box was a good hiding place for a spare key?"

"I… look - you really can't stay here."

"Why not?"

"Because… you can't!" She was almost yelling now. "Didn't your parents teach you any manners at all? Sherlock, you can't just pop up at peoples' places and sleep in their bed".

He was still absolutely calm. "You didn't say anything on Sunday".

"It was the sofa, it's different. You can… go back there if you want. But this is MY bed".

"Your cat bothered me last time."

"Then I'll keep Toby with me in here."

"The sofa is uncomfortable. My back hurts".

"Well you know what, it's that's not good enough, you have your own flat."

This time he didn't answer anything.

"So?" she said, impatiently.

He sighed. "I can't sleep over there. My brain won't stop. But I fell asleep here the other day. I think your apartment or your presence has a soporific effect on me, you see?"

"No… Look I've been working all day, I'm exhausted and I don't have the energy to fight you. So do whatever you want, be quiet and I'm changing my locks tomorrow morning."

Molly went back to the bathroom even she didn't have anything to do there. She needed to breathe. _God, god, god why is this happening?_ She wondered if she should sleep on the sofa. That would be the more reasonable solution. But it almost meant letting him win. And at that rate he would soon kick her out of her own apartment… Should she go to her bed then? It was… quite inappropriate. But... definitely tempting as well. Even if she knew she shouldn't expect anything to happen. From what she heard, he was not really interested in those things.

She went back to the bedroom and saw that he had closed his eyes again. She went to the other side of the bed and tried to settle as far from him as possible. She was staring at the wall when he interrupted:

"Can you turn off the light? I'd like to sleep"

"I was about to". She turned it off and said hesitantly "Good night".

She got no answer, but continued: "How's John?"

There was a moment of silence then he said: "Slightly better, apparently - intracranial pressure's falling. But they're still keeping him unconscious."

"That's good. I mean, I'll hope they'll wake him up soon."

"Yes"

"Oh, we didn't look at your bandages."

"It can wait."

"Did you get them changed?"

"No…"

"Sherlock! It's going to get infected!"

"It can wait until tomorrow. It is highly unlikely to turn into gangrene overnight. Are you done? I would really like to sleep now. I thought you were tired."

"You're really unbelievable. Seriously, I don't know how John manages to put up with you."

"Well, contrary to popular belief, John and I don't sleep in the same bed. Well, rarely."

"You know that's not what I meant…"

She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but she was too agitated. He really had quite upset her. Suddenly she turned on the light again and jumped out of bed.

"What is it now?" he exclaimed

"I'm the doctor in this room, and I've decided it's not waiting until tomorrow".

He buried his head in the pillow and mumbled something inaudible.

"So you won't leave me alone?"

"No; my bed, my rules", she said firmly, "Now get ready."

When she came back from the bathroom, he had stripped to his boxers and was staring at her with a defiant look.

"See doctor, I'm all yours."

Molly tried to keep her composure even if all her confidence was suddenly fading away at the sight of him. She took a deep breath and told him "Good, turn around."

She took care of the wounds. They looked better than the first time but still needed some cleaning. However her mind was invaded by complete different thoughts. The man of her dreams was in her bed, half naked and she was allowed to touch. She should have been happy and yet, she couldn't help feeling incredibly nervous. She could practically hear the sound of her heart bumping in her chest, and Sherlock was so observant, she was sure he'd pick up the signs of her agitation. She forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand.

Once she was done, she got up from the bed and said "No signs of gangrene... yet."

He stared at her for a moment and looked like he was searching for something to say.

"What?" she asked.

"I don't know, it's your hair, it looks good that way. When it's not attached or..."

She cut him short: "Please don't... You know, your pick-up lines are really terrible sometimes".

He looked slightly pissed off, but then burst out laughing. She found his laugh was absolutely ...cute. Now there's a word I never thought I'd connect with Sherlock, she mused.

"Touché! It's never been my forte. I bet John must know some really good ones."

"So what do you want? When you start paying me compliments, it's usually that you need something. What is it this time? A bedtime story?"

"Well, now that I'm awake and I have such an efficient nurse, I was more thinking of... playing doctors." The expression on his face had changed, his smile looking almost predatory.

"Oh" was her only answer. She started looking at the ground, avoiding his eyes.

Sherlock grabbed her hips and pulled her closer.

"Come here", he said softly.

He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face - she was blushing furiously, and was about to say something but he didn't give her time - and then he kissed her.

Despite her surprise, she responded quickly. She had always found he had amazing lips and they felt delicious. He made her sit on top of him and they went on kissing.

Molly couldn't believe this was happening. His hands were sliding under her nightgown and she could feel that he was definitely aroused by now. Suddenly she broke the kiss and pulled back a little. She looked at him, slightly scared.

"What is it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I, I don't know... It's just going a bit fast for me."

"A bit fast? You've been wanting it for over two years. Come on, don't play prude with me."

She hated him for saying that. Because it was rude, but mostly because he was right. Of course she desired him; she had just imagined things would have happened differently. An invitation to coffee, a few dates... On the other hand, tonight might be her only chance. She met his hungry, impatient blue eyed gaze, and decided that for once, she could put her romantic expectations aside.

She stripped off her nightgown and waited for him to make the next move.

He looked at her body with his usual clinical precision, then whispered in her ear "You're beautiful".


	11. The morning after

**Chapter 11**

Molly was still half asleep when she heard the distant sound of rain falling. Staying in bed when it's raining outside was one of the little pleasures of life she cherished. Her eyes still closed, she remembered that she was not working today, so she could stay as long as she wished. Then, memories of the previous night started coming back and this time she woke up with a start. She had sex with Sherlock Holmes. And not just once. She considered for a moment that it might the product of her imagination, but her body told her it had been real.

She rolled on the other side of bed and had a second shock when she realised that he was still there. She would have though he was the type to leave before dawn, but instead he was staring at some non-existent point on the ceiling. She wondered about what to do. Morning-afters could always be awkward, and with his highly whimsical personality she really didn't know what to expect.

She passed a hand before his eyes. He blinked and turned to her.

"What are you thinking?" she murmured.

"That your upstair neighbor has lost his job but forgot to inform his wife, who by the way is cheating on him."

"You never stop, do you?" she said with a smile. She got closer and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips.

"So, still thinking about changing your locks?"

"Hum… I don't know", she said teasingly.

"What, I didn't convince you?". He looked half-amused, half-irritated.

She couldn't help giggling. So the great Sherlock Holmes was insecure about his performances in bed?

She gave me another kiss. "No, I'm very much convinced. Actually you did clear up the rumors, you know?"

"Like what?"

"Well, some people say that you're not interested… in sex. Or that you're gay."

"People say a lot of things. But I thought you had a thing for gay men?" he said with a grin.

"Oh please don't start with it…"

"You didn't do anything with him right?"

She shook her head and looked away.

"Alright, let's no speak of… wait what is this?"

There was a red mark on his on his forearm, the color was striking against his white skin.

"You scratched me!" he exclaimed, "Look there's another one here! I didn't know I had to deal with a tigress…"

"Oh god… Well it's your fault! Anyway, I'll make it up to you. Are you hungry?"

"Not hungry, no. But there's something else you could take care of."

"I don't know what you're talking about" she said with false innocence.

"Well let me show you…"

They kissed again, this time with more passion, but were soon interrupted by a beeping sound. It was his phone. Molly hoped that he would ignore it, but he extended his arm to catch it on the bedside table. He read the text message and his expression suddenly changed.

"I've got to go", he said quickly. Before she had the time to say anything, he was already getting out of bed and collecting his clothes.

"Nothing bad ?"

"No, it's the hospital there seem to have been some developments overnight. Hum… I'll let you know, ok?"

"Ok."

And there he was gone. Molly stayed in bed for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts. Part of her was still in complete bliss from the night. But she also knew that this was only a fleeting moment of happiness. John would go better, life would go on with new cases for him, and new bodies to examine for her. And everybody would do as if nothing had happened at all. But for now, she was perfectly happy. It was 9AM, she could still go back to sleep for a while and she was certain her dreams would be sweet.

^/^

Life was sometimes full of surprises.

Yes, John did go better. The doctors finally decided his state allowed to wake him up. Hopefully he didn't suffer any permanent damages, but he still had a long way to go to recover completely.

Sherlock was still visiting him every day, with a renewed enthusiasm. Even if he would deny it, he had talked to John a great deal while he was still unconscious. But now that his friend was able to answer back, even weakly, he was unstoppable. He told him about the research he had been doing on Moriarty's background, the dead ends it had led him to and the future investigations that were waiting for them. The nurses had to ask him to calm down, because he was tiring the patient.

But most of all, he was still paying regular visits to Molly.

This had become some sort of routine. He would leave the hospital in the end of the afternoon, make a stop at Baker Street and then show up at her flat. When she was working late, she would generally find him spread over the sofa in front of tv (his taste in the matter were quite surprising) or making research on his computer. He had stopped fighting with Toby who had adopted him completely and was often sitting on his lap.

He was keeping her updated about John's progresses. She asked to come with him one day at the hospital. He agreed but insisted that she made no mention of their little "arrangement". She wasn't surprised but couldn't help being a bit disappointed. She knew she had little to expect from him. He never expressed any sentiment or romantic inclinations. He was certainly no boyfriend, more an intrusive temporary roommate with who she was sleeping.

During those two weeks, Molly learnt a lot about Sherlock. She realised that he was not a god, but a real man made of flesh and bone. He was pathologically messy, had a dry but great sense of humor and wore contact lenses for myopia.

She would generally cook for him. And even if he was always complaining about her obsession to "feed him up", she noticed that he was eating more regularly. A few extra pounds wouldn't hurt anyway… He took her out to the restaurant a few times. On his good days he could actually be a gentleman and open up doors, but they never hold hands.

Between the sheets he was acting his usual self: impatient, bossy, egoistic but also utterly brilliant. He was also a bit of a dirty talker which surprised her because he usually never swore. She didn't dislike it though because his voice made everything sound highly erotic. He was quite vain, and although he pretended to attach no importance to people's opinion, was not insensible to compliments.

Mornings were the only time where he could be a bit tender. He would let her rest her head on his chest while he was absently running his hand though her hair. She was a good listener and managed to have him talk a little about his past. Some subjects, however, remained unspoken like the scars she couldn't help noticing on his arms.

He was certainly imperfect and no prince charming like he had used to think.

And yet… the more time they were spending together, the more her former schoolgirl crush was turning into something different, something worse, love.


	12. All good things come to an end

**Chapter 12**

After two weeks, John was released from the hospital.

For the occasion, Mrs Hudson had baked a cake and Sherlock had somehow cleaned up the flat. John's state was definitely much better, but he still needed medical supervision. So Sarah was paying him a daily visit, both as a doctor and a girlfriend. He was getting increasingly frustrated by his inactivity, but was also conscious that he was lucky to be alive.

Sherlock was back to work, Lestrade having finally agreed to give him a new case.

Life was going on, things were coming back into place and Molly knew this meant the end of the enchanted interlude she had been living with Sherlock.

One day coming back from work, she saw that he had taken back the few belongings he usually left at her flat. She had, of course, been expecting it, but the place suddenly felt terribly empty. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she had cherished the illusion that life could always be like that. Sherlock and her, living together.

He didn't left a note, but when she went to her bedroom, she discovered a present waiting on her bed. It was from Harrod's and looked expensive. Molly opened it with excitement. It was a beautiful silk La Perla nightgown. She didn't know if it was a farewell present, or a promise of future encounters. Or just a way to tell her that the old one was really rubbish. She also wondered if he had picked it himself, and the idea of picturing him in the ladies' underwear department amused her immensely.

She saw him one week later, at Bart's. He was with an inspector from the Yard and needed access to a corpse. She acted very professionally and he didn't pay her any particular attention.

Then, on a Saturday afternoon, she received a text:

"_Did you like my present? If so, come to 221B, Baker Street. SH"._

She went, of course, and took with her the La Perla nightgown, which made her felt slightly like a call girl. John had finally been authorised to move and was out for a few hours with Sarah. There was little talking before they headed up to Sherlock's bedroom.

It went on like that, sometimes at his place, sometimes at hers. Whenever he was bored, or needed to empty his mind from the incessant train of thoughts. Molly decided that if it was all she could get from him, she would take it anyway. She was having an affair with a man married to his work, and like all mistresses, she hoped that one day she would have him for herself only. Even if in his case, she knew that a divorce was highly unlikely.

^/^

By the end of March, Sherlock started to change. His investigations into Moriarty's network were progressing. He discovered that the scale of the criminal's actions was much greater that he had foreseen, and the man could probably be held responsible for half the unsolved crimes in Britain. And yet, Scotland Yard didn't have a single thing on him. His only known activity had been mathematical research, a field in which he was apparently a genius. John was helping, but couldn't help feeling concerned for his friend and the unhealthy fascination he was developing for his nemesis.

It was also the time when Molly realised she was pregnant. It was an accident, the classic scenario. She wasn't on the pill, and it had been the one time when they didn't have a condom. He had insisted that he would be careful, which obviously didn't work.

The news had caused her a few sleepless nights; however her decision was quickly taken. She was 31, her biological clock was ticking and she wanted to be a mother. Sherlock may not be the perfect father but she loved him and couldn't dream of better genetic patrimony.

The only remaining obstacle was informing him of the situation. "Informing" was the right word, because his opinion was not really going to be solicited. She realised it was a very egotistic decision, but she also felt strangely comfortable with the idea. If he wanted to be a part of her life, she would be the happiest woman in the world. But if not, she had no problem with being a single mum, and wouldn't ask him for anything.

Molly had prepared her lines many times, but when the occasion presented itself, it was infinitely more difficult than she had planned. He was obviously in a bad mood, and not inclined to open up, so she decided to wait. The same thing happened the second time, and after that she stopped hearing from him almost completely. She texted him, but got no answer, which was unusual. She started to wonder if he knew about the baby and if it was the reason why he was ignoring her.

She met John at Bart's while he was picking up some autopsy reports on Sherlock's behalf. She was disappointed that he hadn't come himself but she learnt how the chase for Moriarty was absorbing all his time.

^/^

A few weeks later, the situation had become so alarming that John resolved to contact Mycroft. Sherlock was going for days without eating or sleeping. He kept disappearing without notice and would sometimes come back injured. When he was home, he was extremely irritable and in a state of constant agitation. The doctor even wondered if he was using again.

Mycroft informed John that he was already working on the Moriarty case. This worried John even more. The fact that Sherlock had accepted his brother's help could mean nothing good. This time, they were not only facing a mad man, but an international criminal organisation.

Sherlock knew he was a target, and this caused him to isolate himself even more. He kept telling John that his company was dangerous and that Baker Street was not safe anymore.

^/^

Finally, Molly decided that if Sherlock was too busy to answer her calls, she would confront him personally. When she arrived at 221B, she met John at the door, who was on the point of rushing out. He looked harassed, but still managed to greet her politely.

"Oh, hi Molly."

"Hello John. Are you going out?"

"Yes… I'm meeting with Sarah. Are you here to see Sherlock?"

"Yes, I'm bringing him some… papers he asked me for."

"Honestly, if I were you I'd just shove them under the door. He's insufferable."

"Oh. I'll see, I think I can handle it".

"Good luck then. Sorry but I've got to go!"

She entered the front door and paused for a moment. John's attitude was definitely not reassuring. She considered giving up, but found the courage to go upstairs.

The door was ajar, she gave a small knock on it. It wasn't long before she heard a familiar voice yelling:

"What is it now? I thought you needed some air!" He was clearly angry.

She pushed the door, and entered the living room. She was shocked by the state of the place. It had always been messy, but now, the floor was practically covered with papers. The shutters were closed even though it was still clear outside, giving the room a gloomy atmosphere.

He was lying on the sofa wearing his usual blue pyjamas, eyes closed.

"Hello Sherlock. It's me."

He practically _jumped_ to his feet, and barked at her:

"What are you doing here?"

She looked at him and felt her heart wrench. He was paler than ever and had lost weight. He seemed exhausted.

"I came to talk. I haven't seen you in a while".

"I have no time to talk. And you can't stay here."

"Listen…"

"No, go away, right now!" There was a look in his eyes that she didn't like.

He started pacing the room nervously then crossed over to the window. He gazed at the street through the shutters.

Molly started again: "Sherlock, I'm not going anywhere. You're not well. I know that this case is taking a great toll on you, but you are not alone. You have John, and me. You know, I care a lot for you. It hurts me to see you like this."

He remained silent. She didn't know if it was a good or a bad sign but she went on:

"And…there is something I really need to tell you about. Something important."

He turned back to her and answered coldly: "There is nothing you could say that matters to me. Now please leave, and close the door behind you."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"You're not yourself. You're under a lot of stress but you can't treat people like this. Don't push me away."

She went close to him and took his hand. "Let me help you." She swallowed, briefly closed her eyes, and the words were instinctively out of her mouth before she fully realised what she was saying. "Sherlock I… I love you."

An unreadable expression passed over his face, then he took back his hand.

"I'm disappointed. I didn't think you were that stupid. So, I'll make things clear, once for all. I don't feel anything for you, never have. You were a somewhat pleasurable distraction when I was bored. Well… despite your insipid conservation."

Stunned, she opened her mouth, then hot fury gave her voice. "You… disgust me".

"Oh? I thought you _loved_ me. See, this is the problem with women, they absolutely lack logic". There was a horrible sneer on his face, and it wasn't until later that Molly wondered if there was something else there. Right now, she just wanted to wipe the smug expression from his face, preferably by causing him pain, and she lashed out at him like a wounded animal.

"You were right on one point - I _have_ been stupid. Stupid enough to think that there was something _human_ in you. Actually, I don't know why you're fighting Moriarty, because you two are exactly the same. You're manipulators, who just use people to play your perverted games. Well I hope you had fun with me. But actually, I pity you, Sherlock, because you'll end up alone, and you deserve it."

She managed to hold back her tears until she had run down the stairs. She took a taxi and cried all the way back home. Then, her sadness turned back into anger. She hated him for what he had said and herself for having been so naïve. She took a pair of scissors and tore apart the nightgown he had given her.

The following day, she wrote a letter asking Bart's security to deny him any access to the mortuary. But then, she thought about her baby, and didn't post it. His words still hurt, although a part of her still couldn't believe he had actually meant them. She was ready to give him a last chance to apologise, but she wouldn't make the first step.

One week later, she received a strange message on her blog. It was from Sarah Sawyer, John's girlfriend. She said that John and Sherlock had apparently disappeared. The two women talked on the phone. Sarah explained that she was supposed to meet John a few days before, but he didn't show up. She went to Baker Street where Mrs Hudson told her that the boys had left in a hurry and without leaving any explanations. Both their phones were turned off. Molly knew this certainly had something to do with Moriarty, but she had no idea either about their destination.

Then she got the call, from John.

And those words: _"Sherlock... is not coming back". _

Suddenly she thought about the last words she had said to him and she felt sick.

^/^

_**So this is the end of the Sherlock/Molly flashback. Next chapter will come back to present time and how she deals with her pregnancy. **_

_**Thanks again for your reviews, they are always greatly appreciated!**_

_**And special thank to my Beta Eyebrows2 !**_


	13. Mamma Mia !

**Chapter 13**

That morning Molly woke up quite nervous with excitement. Today was her second scan. The appointment had been made in a private clinic by Mycroft's assistant, with nothing less than the country's best obstetrician and a state-of-the-art 4D ultrasound scanner. She was eager to know if everything was fine with the baby. And she would also find out about the sex.

John kept his promise, and came to pick her up in a taxi. They were now in the doctor's waiting room.

"So what do you think?" he asked. "Boy or girl?"

"I don't know… I honestly don't have a preference."

"Oh come on, I'm sure you have some idea."

"I think… it's a girl."

"Well, I think it's a boy. Want to take bets?"

"What?"

"The one who's right buys lunch. Is that OK?"

"OK", she giggled.

They were interrupted by the nurse who entered the room. "Good morning, Miss Hooper, could you follow me please?"

"'Course", she said.

"Do you want me to wait here?" asked John

"No. I'd like you to come with me. I mean, if you want to".

"Fine, let's go then".

They settled in the consultation room. John sat at the place normally reserved for the father-to-be. He felt slightly embarrassed being there in such an intimate moment. The doctor ran the usual tests and gave reassuring news. The baby's development was perfectly normal. Then came the expected question:

"Would you like to know the sex of the baby?"

"Yes", she said, exchanging a look with a John.

"It's a girl". He turned the screen so that she could see it. The pictures were astonishingly detailed; so much better than the usual grainy snowstorm of the NHS scanners.

Molly looked at the image and felt overwhelmed by emotion. "Oh my god… she's _beautiful_."

^/^

She couldn't stop staring at the pictures the doctor had printed off for her, and she felt fully justified in allowing the side of her that plastered her website with kittens to come to the fore. "She's so cute, can you see, she's sucking her thumb! This is adorable!" John gave her a broad smile. It felt great having something to celebrate after the past difficult months.

"I owe you a lunch… and I think I know just the perfect place."

^/^

John pushed the door of the little Italian restaurant. It was one of the several places he had been avoiding lately because they carried too many memories. But now he felt strong enough to come back. It was also a way to exorcise the past.

They were immediately greeted by the exuberant owner:

"Dr Watson! What a surprise! You should have called me. Oh, come here my friend." He pulled John into a hug, almost strangling him.

"Hello Angelo, it's good to see you."

"I was at the funeral you know, beautiful speech you did. But I see you've come with your lady. Oh and there is a baby on the way, this is wonderful!"

"No it's not…" John glanced at Molly who gave him a nod. "It's not my baby. It's Sherlock's."

Angelo's jaw dropped with surprise. He looked at Molly in disbelief and exclaimed: "Mamma Mia! This is incredible, I have to tell my wife." He shouted in direction of the kitchen: "Antonella, c'è il Dottore Watson! Con la ragazza di Sherlock - che aspetta un _bambino_!"

He looked at John and Molly, appraisingly: "Come with me, I have to show you something".

As they were following Angelo to the back of the restaurant, Molly murmured in John's ear: "Is he always like that?"

"Oh yes!"

They arrived at the counter, where Angelo proudly showed them a shelf which had been installed on the wall. Beside a portrait of John Paul II, was a sort of shrine dedicated to the memory of the detective. There was a picture of Sherlock at the restaurant, and different newspapers articles relating the circumstances of his death.

"We think of him all the time. So young… what a tragedy". He placed his fingers on the picture, almost in a gesture of superstition.

John was speechless; he didn't know if he should cry or burst out laughing. He forced back the latter response, not wanting to cause mortal offence. "This is… this is beautiful, very moving."

"Thank you, but you must be hungry! Especially the young lady! Please have a seat, I bring you the menu. Everything for free."

They settled at Angelo's "best table" and ordered some pizzas. John looked a bit embarrassed.

"I'm sorry. I'm not such sure it was such a good idea to come here."

"No, it's fine. He's… quite a character!" answered Molly with a grin.

"For sure! And you know, this place has a history. Actually, this is where Sherlock and I had dinner the first time, just after we met. Angelo was convinced that I was Sherlock's date. He even put a candle on the table!"

"No way! Oh god, that's priceless!"

"And Sherlock though that I was asking him out! Really, the whole evening was hideously embarrassing…"

"Well… there were a lot of rumors, about you two."

"I know. I must say I still had some doubts about him. I never saw him showing an interest in any woman. That's why I was so surprised when I learned about… you."

There was an awkward silence. Molly and Sherlock's relationship was a subject they had always avoided so far.

"From what I can tell… I was certainly far from the first one", answered Molly, blushing slightly.

John sighed, "The more the time passes, the more I realise… how many things there were about him that I didn't know."

Molly was gazing absently out of the window, John's words echoing in her mind. She started thinking about Sherlock again. About the times they had been to a restaurant together, when he was charming and funny. And then, the other Sherlock, who had been cold and cruel. Had she ever known him at all? Before she knew it, she realised her pregnancy enhanced emotions had taken a violent swing for the worse.

John saw that a tear was rolling down her cheek. He covered her hand with his and murmured: "Hey, no tears - it's a happy day, remember?"

"I know, It's just…our last meeting was… a _disaster_. He said some very harsh words… and so did I. It was horrible. But I can't help wondering what would have happened, if he'd come back. If I'd been able to tell him. And… it breaks my heart that he never knew…. and that my daughter will never know her father."

She was sobbing loudly now. John, uncomfortable, didn't know what to say. How _would_ his friend have reacted to the announcement of Molly's pregnancy? "Sherlock" and "baby" were two concepts he found very difficult to put together.

However, he tried to comfort her. "Molly, I don't know what he said to you, but he wasn't really himself by the end."

She nodded in agreement and tried to wipe her tears.

John continued. "I know how you feel. There is not one day I don't think about what happened. I keep wondering over and over, is there something I could have done to save him? At first I was angry at myself, but sometimes I can't help feeling angry at him. Because what he did… his bloody _sacrifice_… it was almost suicide. And he left us all behind…" His eyes were wet. "Oh, no. Now I'm crying too. If he could see us now, he'd think we're a pair of idiots. At least you've got the excuse of hormones!"

Her phone beeped; she looked at the screen and managed a weak chuckle.

"What is it?" asked John

"It's from Mycroft" she replied, handing him the phone. The text message simply read _"Congratulations, MH"._

"Well, for once I agree with Mycroft. Congratulations to the future mum. It is all that counts today."


	14. Family Album

**Chapter 14**

By September, Molly had stopped working at Bart's. She was getting increasingly tired and still had a lot to prepare before the baby's arrival. The first step was moving into a larger flat, a matter that had been completely taken care of by Mycroft.

Although he had been particularly helpful from the beginning, the older Holmes brother was still very much a mystery to her. Sherlock had talked a few times about him, always to complain about his constant intrusions into his personal life. And she knew from John that he was more or less working for the secret services. On the rare occasions Molly had met with him in person, he appeared to be very polite and well-behaved. Some would say too polite, to be honest. Yes, there was definitely a lingering danger about the man. However, his concerns for her well-being seemed genuine, and she preferred to have him as a friend rather than an enemy.

He had sent his assistant to aid her while shopping for the baby's future room. Anthea was a funny girl when she was not glued to her Blackberry. Molly sometimes wondered if she was sleeping with her boss.

One day, as she was setting out for the Tesco Metro, the now familiar black limo stopped in front of her. Anthea was on the back seat and told her to get in.

"Where are you taking me this time?" asked Molly

"Can't tell you. You know he does love to be dramatic."

"Yes… reminds me of someone." Both girls shared a conspiratorial smirk.

As they were leaving the city, Molly closed her eyes, letting the motion of the car lull her to sleep. She didn't even try to guess where they were heading to.

When she woke up, they were entering the gated driveway of a rather grand private property. Suddenly, she recognised the place. She had been here before, after the funeral. Her memories of that day were blurry, but she remembered the gardens and the impressive mansion. The Holmes estate.

^/^

Anthea told her to wait in the library. She wondered why Mycroft wanted to meet her here, in the place where she had talked to him for the first time. Whilst waiting for him, she took a better look at the room. The walls were lined with books; a lot of them looked old and were probably worth a fortune. There were also several paintings, maybe ancestral portraits? _Posh posh posh_, she thought to herself.

On a shelf, Molly noticed several frames with pictures that looked more contemporary. She felt slightly uncomfortable prying around, but her curiosity was stronger and she went closer.

Some of them were in black and white, but one particular picture caught her attention. It had been taken on a graduation day. A student was holding his diploma, and, even if he was fatter and had more hair than now, she easily recognised Mycroft. He looked older than his years, and already carried that air of unflappable superiority. A woman, clearly his mother, was posing next to him; smiling broadly and obviously very proud of her son. There was also another boy, standing a little apart from them. Around thirteen, black curls over his eyes and giving a defiant look to the camera, this was obviously Sherlock. Molly took the frame in her hands and contemplated the scene for a moment.

She almost dropped it when she heard a feminine voice coming from behind her:

"That is one of my favourites. Even if Sherlock could have made an effort. The holed jeans certainly earned us a few stares at Oxford."

Molly clumsily put the picture back on the shelf and turned around to face a woman. The one from the photograph. She felt herself blushing from head to toe.

"Good afternoon Miss Hooper. It is a pleasure to meet you at last."

^/^

Sherlock's mother made her sit on the sofa and a maid brought some tea and biscuits. Molly tried not to make it too obvious that she was studying her hostess. Mrs Holmes had impressed her by her dignity at the funeral. She was a very elegant blond woman, and it was clear where Sherlock had got those amazing blue eyes from.

Despite her initial apprehension, Molly was quickly reassured. Elizabeth Holmes (she had insisted upon being called her by her first name), made her feel instantly at ease. There was a natural warmth radiating from her personality. They talked for a long time, about Molly's life, her family, her job, her aspirations. Then, Elizabeth brought over a large family album.

They flipped through the pages together, which was the occasion for Mrs Holmes to tell many anecdotes. She was obviously happy to evoke these memories with someone to share them, and Molly was delighted to hear about them.

"Look at this one, this was shortly after we brought back Sherlock from the maternity ward. Mycroft was very proud to be a big brother. Very protective as well."

"And this is Sherlock's seventh birthday: he's wearing the costume of the "Little Prince" - his favourite book. He always loved to dress up. Mycroft not so much so, but he would always give in to please his brother. They used to get along so well…"

She ran her fingers lightly over the children in the photographs and sighed wistfully, lost in the memories for a moment. Molly almost feared to interrupt her, but felt it might be expected of her.

"They are very different though" she ventured.

"Yes, very different, yet very alike at the same time. You see, with Mycroft everything has always been so… easy. But with Sherlock, it was all much more difficult. As a baby, he would sometimes cry for hours and there was nothing we could to do to calm him down. And growing up he had such terrible fits of anger… My husband insisted that we consult all those child psychiatrists, but I am afraid it caused more hurt than good." There was a clear disapprobation in her voice. Molly was fascinated; she had never thought to gain such insight into Sherlock's carefully disregarded background.

"I heard him calling himself… a sociopath," she said. Elizabeth's eyes darkened.

"Oh, you have no idea of how many different diagnoses we heard. But I never believed any of them. They said he didn't connect with other people. I think that on the contrary he was always craving attention. The problem was he didn't realise that some of the things he said could be… hurtful."

Molly nodded. _Yes she knew about that…_

While they continued looking at the pictures, she could gradually connect the dots of Sherlock's past. She saw him turning from a turbulent child into a rebel teenager and later on to an unhappy, far-too-skinny young man. She also noticed that his father, a strict looking man, had disappeared from the pictures when his youngest son was around ten years old.

"Thank you so much for sharing this with me, it means a lot", she said once they were done. "It must be hard for you to look back at those. I cannot imagine the pain it is…to lose a son."

Elizabeth looked back at her. One could see the emotion in her eyes, but her voice didn't flinch.

"Yes, I miss him terribly. A mother should never outlive her children, this is not the way things are meant to be. However with Sherlock…I sometimes think it is a miracle he even reached the age he did."

She saw that Molly looked confused, and elaborated: "Oh you didn't know him at that time, but he had a… very serious drug problem, for years. He didn't finish university because of it, and almost disappeared entirely for six months. I can tell you we had many sleepless nights. Every time the phone rang I feared that someone would announce to me that he had died of an overdose. Finally, he got arrested, and it is what saved him. He met that Inspector who saw the potential in him and you know the rest.

It's terrible that this tragedy arrived when he had finally settled down. He had his work, his friend John and… you."

Molly smiled. She didn't wanted to disappoint Mrs Holmes by telling her she had merely been a convenient booty call.

"You are a nice girl. It's a pity you and Sherlock didn't have more time together. I must say it was a great joy to learn you decided to keep this baby. I had honestly given up on the idea of having grandchildren one day. But in the future, if you and your little girl would like to pay me a visit from time to time…it would make me immensely happy."

She spoke casually, with an unconscious touch of the autocratic so natural to her status, yet Molly suddenly recognised a glimmer of vulnerability in her eyes; apprehension that the offer may be rejected. For a moment, although she couldn't say why for definite, she was reminded almost painfully of Sherlock, and she fought back tears as she answered sincerely:

"I will, for sure."

The smile on her baby's grandmother's face shone with sudden simple joy and relief.

"You are a part of this family now. And there are plenty others photo albums to fill."


	15. Friday Night

**Chapter 15**

"You should go without me! I'm too tired anyway", shouted Molly from her bedroom.

John sighed heavily. Waiting for a woman to get ready was always a nerve-wracking experience. But when the woman in question was 8 ½ months pregnant, it could turn into an absolute nightmare. He had been waiting for the past forty five minutes, while all he wanted was get into the pub and order a pint.

"Come on! We won't stay long. Just the time to say hello to the crew."

Lestrade and his team usually met every Friday night at a pub near the Yard, and John had picked up the habit of joining them. This time, he had invited Molly to come along with him. She had accepted because she realised it might be her last to occasion to go out and have some fun. Once the baby was born, her already scarce social life would be reduced to feeds, nappies, and the other joys of motherhood. But now that the time to get ready had come, she wasn't so sure about it. She could feel a bad headache coming on, and couldn't find anything decent to wear.

"I look like a whale, literally", she said finally coming into the living room. She had decided on a simple black sweater and a pair of leggings.

"It's perfect" said John.

"Oh please, you don't have to lie."

"I'm not lying. You look… lovely." He was actually about to say "sexy" but it would have been slightly inappropriate. He had never really paid attention to Molly's looks in the past. She would generally wear the not very flattering white blouse from Bart's. But as they spent more and more time together, he realised she was actually a very pretty girl. And he certainly didn't dislike the extra pregnancy curses. However, he immediately deleted the thought from his head. It was just a night out between friends. Not that he hadn't considered the idea of asking her out. He had broken up with Sarah a while ago now. But dating a woman pregnant with the child of his dead best friend didn't sound like the best idea in the world.

"Ok let's go we're late!"

^/^

The others were already there and had ordered the first round of beers.

"Hey, John, over here!" called Lestrade.

"Hello, Greg, how're you doing?"

"Good, good. So, I recognise Miss Hooper. Welcome, and congratulations!"

"Thank you" answered Molly hesitantly. She wasn't very comfortable around the DI. The last time they had met, he had questioned her about her relationship with James Moriarty. She knew he didn't suspect her of anything, but it was still embarrassing. She ordered an orange juice and sat next to the only other woman of the group, Sergeant Sally Donovan.

John was already engrossed in a conversation with Lestrade and Anderson. He always enjoyed hearing about the latest cases they were working on. Life as a doctor was good, but he missed the criminal hunt more than he would admit.

Molly was definitely not feeling well. But John was having fun and she didn't want to spoil it. Also, perhaps she was exaggerating to herself, as she was never at ease among strangers. Thankfully, Sergeant Donovan broke the ice:

"So this is… _Holmes_' baby, right?" She hadn't used once the word "Freak" since the funeral.

"Yes. You knew him, didn't you? You worked together on some cases?"

"Yeah. I'll be honest with you; he wasn't my favourite person in the world. And I'm not the kind of hypocrite who suddenly starts praising people once they're dead. But… he was damn good at his job and as much as I hate saying it, we _do_ miss him."

Molly tried to smile, but a wave of pain suddenly hit her. The sergeant looked concerned.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Contraction. Braxton Hicks, I suppose. It happens once in a while."

"When are you due?"

"Two weeks from now."

"Wow, properly soon. Have you chosen a name yet?"

"Not yet. I mean… I have a few ideas but I prefer to wait. When I see her, see what she looks like, I hope I'll just know. Do you have children?"

"Oh no... I mean, maybe one day - but I have to find the man first. And with my job it's not going to happen anytime soon." Molly caught the slightly pointed tone with which this was said, and the involuntary glance towards Anderson. Definitely spent too much time around Sherlock. She continued the conversation as if she hadn't noticed.

"Well, you never know. Look at me!"

Sally smiled. "You're right. By the way… um... are you and John…?"

"What?"

"Are you together?"

"Oh, god, no! We're just friends, really."

"Oh, right, sorry. It's just - I don't know, but for a friend he talks a lot about you. And he brought you with him tonight."

Molly was confused. John had been talking about her? Did he actually ask her out? No, this was stupid, not in her condition. It was true they had become quite close during the past months, but there was no way he could be interested. And her life was already too complicated to add a boyfriend into the mix.

^/^

After an hour, and a second round of drinks, Molly decided it really was time for her to go home. She took her coat and went to tell John.

"John, I'm heading off. I'll take a cab. You stay if you want."

"No, no, I'll come back with you."

"You should stay. I'm fine."

"You don't look so good. Listen, I'll take you back to your place and if I really want to, I can come back later. Deal?"

"Fine", she said, but he noticed she was wincing in pain.

"OK. We're definitely going. G'night everyone, see you next week!"

"'Bye", answered Lestrade. "Molly, don't forget to send a picture of the baby to the team, OK?"

It was a busy Friday night in London, with the usual crowd of drunks and girls wearing too-short dresses.

"There's a taxi rank a few streets away, can you manage to walk that far?"

"Yes, I think the fresh air will do me some good."

"The last few weeks are bit hard, hey?"

"Yes. My back hurts and my feet are swollen. And I…"... This time, she couldn't help moaning in pain.

"Molly, what's up?" asked John with a concerned voice. "Do you want us to call your midwife?"

"No I… I really want to go home and rest." She was unsure why she was insisting she was alright, but somehow, it seemed to help her stay in control.

"Alright. Look, stay here, I'm coming back with the taxi."

John was as fast as he could be, but he was not the only one looking for a cab that night. Once he found a car, he asked the driver to come and pick them up where he had left Molly. He got slightly worried when he didn't see her. Actually, she had moved and was now leaning against a building. As the driver went to turn around, he wandered over to her.

"OK, he's just going around the corner, won't be long. Molly?"

Something was wrong: she was crying. Presuming hormones and over-tiredness, he took her cold hand, and chafed it to bring the circulation back.

"Molly, look at me, it's fine. I'm taking you home."

"John I…. I think my waters broke."

"What?" he echoed, dumbly.

"The baby… it's coming. Now!"

John had the nerves of steel of an ex-soldier, but the news caused him real shock, despite him knowing that to be a ridiculous reaction. However, he tried to keep as calm as possible and rationalise the situation.

"OK, OK… Well, we'll just have to take the cab, and go to the hospital instead. And everything will be fine, just fine."

He was aware he was gabbling. Honestly, give him a shattered femur bleeding out and he was in his element; give him something as normal as a woman going into labour at term, and he had to fight the impulse to run in circles shouting. Molly nodded but he could see she was clearly distressed. The taxi parked in front of them. John opened the door.

"Sir, we have a slight change of plan. The lady is… going have her baby... er, pretty damn soon... so we're heading to the nearest hospital. Please go as quickly as possible!"

Molly was trying to stay calm, but she was increasingly panicking. It was too sudden. The baby was breach, and she'd planned for an elective c-section - next week. It couldn't be happening now. Not in this car. What if something went wrong with the baby?

"John, I'm scared. What are we going to do?"

"Molly, we're two doctors, and the baby's not premature, just a bit... overly punctual. I swear this is going to be OK."

_Really_? His hysterical inner voice squawked. He wasn't so sure a forensic scientist and an army doctor were the most qualified for this situation. He had attended and helped out in a few deliveries as a student, but that was a long time ago. He tried to remember... _Breathing_, yes! Breathing was important.

"You need to breathe, alright? Breathe regularly and through the nose. We still have plenty of time."

"I don't know, it really hurts. I think it's going quickly."

_Damn it, though_, thought John. It's _Sherlock's_ baby - of course it can't wait!

"Take my hand; you can squeeze it as much as you like."

They were stuck in traffic and the sound of horns blaring was driving John mad. They had been in the car for twenty minutes and almost hadn't moved at all. He asked the driver, "Can you really not go any faster?"

"Sorry, but it's Friday night, Sir. Can't do anything about the traffic. Now if you have a magic wand…"

His words struck John. He might _actually_ have one… He took out his phone and dialled the number.

"Who are you calling?", asked Molly.

"The Wizard of Oz", replied John with a grin. Molly listened to the one-sided conversation that followed.

"Hi, Mycroft, it's John. Um… we have a bit of a situation here. Molly's in labour…. Actually, we're in a taxi, heading to St Thomas'…. I know, but it's the closest. Listen we're stuck, can you help ?... No, no, no… I just need you give us a hand with the traffic lights. We're on Victoria St, behind a double decker, the plate number is…"

"MA57ERP. Who're you _talking_ to? I don't want no trouble", interrupted the driver, already clearly nervous enough at the prospect of a baby being delivered on his faux-leather back seats.

John ignored the question. "Did you hear that?… good, can you get us on CCTV? Great. We need it all green until St Thomas'. I'll see you there. Bye."

**^/^**

**Thank you so much for your reviews. It means a lot since this is my first fic. So the baby is almost there, actually I never thought it would take so many chapters. But I really wanted to include some other characters like Mycroft, Mummy Holmes, the Yarders, Angelo (btw my head canon Angelo is the one from the pilot, I love him !).**

**Glad you enjoyed it, there is more to come. We will probably make a skip in time soon. Of you course you can imagine Molly and John are going to get quite a surprise in the future!**

**Extra thanks to Eyebrows2 for her fantastic editing and great additions. **

**And please review ;-)**


	16. Baby Hooper

**Chapter 16**

The midwife had honestly found it a bit strange. There were two men waiting for Molly Hooper to deliver her baby, but neither of them was the father.

The first one had arrived in a taxi with the mother-to-be, a bit frantic and claiming to be a doctor. The staff had received a call from the hospital director himself informing them of their arrival. Molly had been taken in charge by the obstetric team and John was shown the way to the waiting room - he had tentatively offered to stay with her, but looked rather relieved when she declined.

They were followed shortly after by a second man. This one was wearing an impeccable suit and was greeted personally by the head of the service.

It had been an emergency arrival, but things were now not progressing all that quickly. They had been waiting for almost two hours now. Anthea entered the room, Blackberry in hand, and informed her boss:

"I've called Miss Hooper's parents and sent them a car. They should be here in a few hours."

"Good, thank you."

Mycroft Holmes taped his umbrella on the floor. He looked as impassive as always, but he was in fact highly irritated. This was not how things were planned. The baby was not supposed to be born now, and certainly not in an NHS hospital. Well, at least it hadn't happened in the taxi, which would have been embarrassing.

John Watson was seated next to him, twisting his fingers and blaming himself. He shouldn't have insisted upon Molly going out if she was tired. He knew it was ridiculous to worry, but he would never forgive himself if anything went wrong that night. Telling himself to stop being an idiot and panicking over a perfectly normal process, he started thinking back over the events of the past months and the surprising path his life had taken. He couldn't help but giggle nervously.

"What is it?" asked Mycroft.

"I don't know. It's just… the whole situation is a bit…"

"Unusual?"

"Yeah… this isn't how my average night at the pub usually ends."

Mycroft hesitated for a moment and said: "You know, the only time I've waited in a maternity ward before was for Sherlock".

John looked at him in slight surprise. Mycroft never usually spoke about himself.

"How old were you?"

"Seven. But I already knew it would be the last peaceful day of my existence."

"What kind of baby was he?" asked John.

"Well… noisy."

"I can imagine."

The two men exchanged an amused look. Then an awkward silence followed, as always when Sherlock's memory was evoked.

"I can't believe it's been six months already" said John shaking his head. "I went to Baker Street the other day. Mrs Hudson told me you're still paying the rent, and that Sherlock's things are still upstairs."

An unreadable expression passed over Mycroft's face. "I like to go there sometimes… to think."

"You miss him, don't you?"

He nodded. "It was not always like that, between us. We used to get along."

"What happened?"

He sighed. "When he was nine… Sherlock found out our father was having a... liaison. He wanted to confront him. I tried to talk him out of it but… you know how stubborn he could be. Our father called him a liar. He said Sherlock had always been… troubled. I knew my brother was right, but… I didn't say anything. I wanted to protect the family from upheaval." His voice was bitter with self-reproach.

He paused for a moment then continued: "I… betrayed my brother and he never forgave me. All for nothing, because our parents got a divorce anyway. Our father died five years later; Sherlock had never seen him again."

"I'm sorry", said John. "Believe me, I know about complicated sibling relationships. I think he knew you cared for him in your own way. Now… how do you feel about becoming an uncle?"

"Let's say it is rather… unexpected."

"What do you think he would have thought about it? Being a father?"

"I don't think it is something he ever… considered. But I know that if he were here tonight, he would already have driven half the staff insane!"

The midwife suddenly entered the room and called their names: "Mr Watson? Mr Holmes?"

The two men jumped from their seats at the same time.

"Lovely news - the baby is born. It's a little girl in perfect health. Mum's tired but she'll be fine - we didn't need to go for a C-section in the end, baby came out bottom first with no instrumentation and only a couple of stitches."

John sighed in relief, whilst Mycroft grimaced squeamishly. "Can we see her?"

"Yes, but not for too long, and one at a time".

They looked at each other and decided John would go first. Once he had left, Mycroft turned to the midwife:

"I have given a list of authorised visitors to hospital security. If anyone else asks to see Miss Hooper or the baby, I must be informed immediately - is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir", replied the confused woman, looking vaguely impressed.

"Oh, and by the way, do you have the weight?"

She looked at her charts. "Yes, 7 pounds 8 ounces. Nice healthy weight."

"Thank you".

He turned to Anthea, who started texting immediately.

^/^

John half-opened the door of the room. He saw Molly resting on the bed, holding the baby against her.

"Can I come in?" he asked, grinning.

"Yes."

The baby was making small sounds as her mother was softly caressing her head. John came closer, feeling almost intimidated by the scene. Molly looked tired and flushed but a smile illuminated her face.

"So, here she is…."

He looked down at the little bundle. It was a long time since he had done paediatrics and, although he remembered from interminable baby checks how small and red and scrumpled they could be, newborn babies always took him a little by surprise with their grimaces, opening and closing fingers and fragility. He felt a swell of protectiveness, which he told himself was instinctive, or on Sherlock's behalf, or something.

Molly pointed a finger in his direction and whispered to her daughter: "Look, Audrey, this is John."

"Hello! Oh so this is Audrey?"

"Yes, do you like it?"

"It suits her very well. Welcome, Audrey. You gave us a bit of a scare, you know?"

"She's a curious girl, she just couldn't wait to see the world".

"How are you feeling?"

"Alright. A bit… exhausted. But I'm so excited. I can't stop looking at her little face."

"Well, she is adorable - congratulations! I won't stay long, it's been a long day for you, and Mycroft's waiting outside."

"Oh, he's there?"

"Could you ever expect anything else? And your parents are on the way. Oh, and Anthea took the key of your apartment from your bag; she'll bring you a few belongings later."

"Thank you. I mean, for everything. You're really been awesome to me, John. I don't know what I would have done without you."

"You're more than welcome."

"Could you… put her back in her cot?"

"Oh, um… of course". He was never very comfortable holding such a small child, but he took her in his arms as delicately as he could. He installed her in the small bed and told Audrey "Be good with your Mummy. You're very lucky to have one like her."

Then he took Molly's hand and gave it a soft kiss. "OK, you need to rest. I'll be back tomorrow".

^/^

Mycroft had already organised the transfer to a private clinic, but Molly insisted on staying at St Thomas'. A delightfully bossy and motherly nursery nurse called Helen, who knew her job inside out, was supporting and scolding her through the processes of breast feeding, changing, bathing, and she felt comfortable and looked after. She was first visited by her parents, who had travelled overnight from Devon. They were followed by Mycroft (whose attempts to bring the British Government into the postnatal ward were firmly curtailed by Helen - it seemed all that was needed to cow him was a "none of that nonsense _here_, thank you") and his mother. And finally John, who brought some cupcakes baked by Mrs Hudson.

Audrey slept most of the time and didn't pay much attention to her visitors. All of them agreed that she was, of course, the cutest baby they had ever seen. They also debated greatly about who she looked like. She had brown hair and her features were generally Molly's. But the eye's shape and colour were definitely Sherlock's. Mycroft, naturally, pontificated upon the fact that scientists had proven that men were far less able to perceive familial resemblances in babies than women - then demonstrated his superiority over the rest of the species by identifying fourteen other Holmes characteristics that not even Molly could identify.

A DNA test was normally necessary for the deceased father's name to appear on the birth certificate, which was complicated since his body had never been found. But Mycroft's position would certainly make things easier. However, it was decided that Audrey would take her mother's surname. Moriarty's network was not completely dismantled, and they didn't want to attract unwanted attention.

Elizabeth Holmes had brought her camera, and many pictures were taken on that day. She insisted on having one of her older son with his niece, even if the idea of Mycroft holding a baby sounded wrong in many ways. Audrey started crying immediately as they were trying to pose, which resulted in a funny picture, stifled dismay on Mycroft's part, and more overt amusement on John's.

When everyone had left, Molly contemplated her daughter one more time. It was amazing how such a small creature could make her, and so many people, happy. Of course, everybody still missed Sherlock deeply. But now there was a part of him living through Audrey. Yes, this baby was truly a miracle.

She murmured to the little girl: "Mummy loves you very much. And she wishes Daddy was here to see how beautiful you are".


	17. My dear Watson

**Chapter 17**

They say your life is never the same anymore once you are a parent, and it is true. From the day her daughter was born, a brand new life had started for Molly. It was a bit exhausting to take care of her by herself, but she was doing well. Audrey was a very alert baby, generally happy and looking at you with her big blue eyes.

They would usually spend Sundays afternoons at Mycroft's apartment on Pall Mall. It was amazing to see how his niece had turned him into a doting uncle. Her grandmother was equally fond of the little girl, and had offered her a teddy bear which had once belonged to Sherlock.

Molly was also spending a lot of time with John. Whenever he could, he would drop by her apartment on his way back from work. He loved playing with Audrey and his funny faces made her laugh a great deal. He was also really good at putting her to sleep, which was not always easy. Then, he would often stay to have dinner with Molly.

One night, after a few glasses of wine, the usual goodbye kiss on the cheek was followed by another one, on the lips, more lingering. It could have been an awkward moment, but it felt natural to both of them. They stopped it there, by an unspoken mutual consent, but Molly kept finding herself smiling all of the next day.

The following Saturday, John convinced Molly to let Mrs Hudson babysit and took her on a proper date. He came to pick her up with flowers. She couldn't remember the last time a man had done that for her.

She had always been attracted to men with some kind of venomous charm. They kept treating her badly, and she thought she could make them change, which of course never happened. But John Watson was very different: genuinely good, respectful, even romantic. The kind she would usually find nice, but boring.

Expect he was not - there was something more about him. He had fought in Afghanistan and chased criminals around London. Just enough danger to raise her interest. When he took her hand later on that night, she instantly felt safe. She knew he would try his best to protect her whatever happened, and she unexpectedly found this very attractive.

So she forgot about her not-on-a-first-date resolution, and they spent the night together.

She was not disappointed. She remembered Sherlock once telling her that the fair sex was John's department, and she started to understand why. Not that Sherlock had been bad; quite the contrary - but he was rather… self-centered. John was assertive, as she liked, but also gentle and attentive. He definitely knew how to please a woman.

They moved in together one month later, which didn't change much since he was already spending most of his time at her flat. It had been a long time since he had lived with a woman but he enjoyed domestic life. Molly was making him a happy man, and he loved Audrey as if she was his own daughter. He liked to find them waiting for him at night, and the walks in the park with the stroller on the week ends. He had to confess, he still missed Sherlock, like a persistent, low-level ache, and occasionally he still yearned to hear that the Game was On, but Molly and Audrey had put the sparkle back in his life.

Six months later, after a romantic dinner at Alfredo's, John proposed. And Molly said yes.

That night, however, Molly couldn't find sleep. She hadn't hesitated at the restaurant, but now she was asking herself a million questions. What it the right decision? What she being honest with John? He had a good heart, he loved her and would be a great father for Audrey. What more could she possibly ask for? Passion? The kind of passion she had felt for Sherlock? Sherlock had stolen her heart the moment he stepped into the lab. He had played with her like a cat with a mouse. But even if he was gone, she was unable to forget him. How could she, when she saw him every time she was looking at her child?

With John, it had been different. The first time, she didn't even remember his name. It hadn't been love at first sight, but maybe it was something stronger? Life had brought them together, and she knew she could trust him. She looked at the man who was sleeping peacefully next to her, and decided that for once in her life she would give a chance to the good guy.

^/^

John would have preferred a simple ceremony, but he knew Molly's sentimental streak, so he indulged her wish for her fairy tale wedding. He even gave in to her wish for him to wear his military uniform. She thought he looked utterly dashing in it.

Neither of them had large families, but all their friends were there, along with some of Molly's colleagues and John's war buddies. Audrey was too young to be a bridesmaid, but Molly had found her a really pretty dress. She had started calling John "Daddy" a few weeks before.

The party took place at a luxurious London hotel, which had been generously booked by Mycroft. Everybody had good fun, even if Harry, of course, managed to embarrass her brother with her drinking. And Molly swore she saw Mycroft and Anthea slow dancing together.

By midnight, the newlyweds said goodbye to their guests. They were leaving the following day on their honeymoon to Mauritius, while Audrey would stay with Elizabeth. Her grandmother was delighted to have her for a whole week, even if she expected daily anxious phone calls from her mum.

Molly and John entered the suite where they were about to spend their wedding night. There were plenty of presents waiting for them, as well as a beautiful lily bouquet. While John was taking off his jacket, Molly couldn't help contemplating the packets, like a little girl on Christmas morning.

"Just to let you know, you'll be the one writing all the thank you cards", said John with a grin.

"Oh don't worry, I'll just leave you the space to sign them."

"Who sent the flowers?"

"I don't know… there is no name on it. Maybe the card got lost? But they are beautiful."

John put his arms around her waist and kissed her neck. "No as much so as my beautiful wife", he murmured. "Now, what do you think of giving the four-poster bed a try?"

THE END

^/^

**So this is the end of this fic… but not the end of the story. As you can imagine, somebody will soon make a comeback!**

**This was my first real writing experience. Thank you all for you great feedback, it really means a lot. And again, a special thank to Eyebrows 2 who helped me a lot with beta reading.**

**I hope the sequel won't be too long to come, I'm already working on it. Even if I already have a good idea of what will happen (at least for the beginning), I would love to hear your suggestions. And don't worry, even I like to take my inspiration from the canon, Molly is not Mary ;-)**

**See you soon !**


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